


Special Consideration

by valda



Series: The Deaths of Allegiant General Pryde [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asphyxiation, Choking, Gen, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:14:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24807595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valda/pseuds/valda
Summary: Allegiant General Enric Pryde has been summoned to meet Supreme Leader Kylo Ren. He has no idea what's in store.
Relationships: Armitage Hux & Enric Pryde, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren, Kylo Ren & Enric Pryde
Series: The Deaths of Allegiant General Pryde [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794328
Comments: 34
Kudos: 138





	Special Consideration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theweddingofthefoxes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweddingofthefoxes/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Особое отношение](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26107933) by [fandom Galactic Empire 2020 (Team_Galactic_Empire)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Team_Galactic_Empire/pseuds/fandom%20Galactic%20Empire%202020), [Lenuchka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenuchka/pseuds/Lenuchka)



> Originally posted to Tumblr [here](https://cosleia.tumblr.com/post/621356133491376129/you-decide-what-it-would-specifically-be-but-i).

“I’ve seen your mind, _Allegiant General_ ,” Kylo Ren said lowly, his voice dark and terrifying through his newly repaired mask. In Ren’s Force-hold, Enric Pryde tried not to struggle and failed, limbs shaking and body twitching as his airway constricted further and further.

Enric had never considered himself capable of desperation. He was strong. Controlled. Steadfast, like his ship. And Kylo Ren had never frightened him; Enric had always known what he was, how he fit into the plan. He was a mere pawn, to be used and then sacrificed for the glory of the Empire.

Despite all this, when Enric answered Ren, his voice sounded wild, frightened, too high in pitch. “I have only ever been loyal—” he tried to say, but Ren cut him off with a sharp tightening of his fist.

“To Emperor Palpatine. Darth Sidious. Not to the First Order. Not to me.”

Spots floated in the periphery of Enric’s vision, and the scene before him—Supreme Leader Kylo Ren standing with his arm outstretched, hand clenched as he crushed Enric’s throat—began to fade, to go black. Distantly, Enric registered a sickening crunching sound as he felt his windpipe collapse.

“Not yet.” The voice floated into Enric’s consciousness, haughty and indulgent and wrong. He shouldn’t be hearing that voice, but he couldn’t remember why.

Suddenly Enric’s airway popped open, and the vise-like invisible grip was no longer suspending him above the floor of the throne room. He fell, landing hard on his knees and then collapsing forward, sucking in air as best he could through his rattling throat. His vision slowly started to return; he could make out the toes of Ren’s boots on the ice-blue carpeting in front of him as the Supreme Leader stepped closer.

He had thought it strange that Ren had summoned him to the _Supremacy_ , had been surprised to see that it was being repaired and recommissioned instead of scuttled as he’d originally been told. And he hadn’t expected to be brought by the Knights of Ren to Snoke’s old throne room. This was a stage for a performance that was over now. There was no use for any of it; the puppet’s strings had been cut. But a new stage had been set: no curtains blocked the giant viewports, and the carpet leading from the lift to the throne had been replaced, and there was more technology here now, consoles and holoprojectors and what looked like a workbench. The throne was changed, too. Whereas Snoke’s throne had been somewhat modeled after Palpatine’s on Exegol, jutting up in the shape of a beheaded isosceles triangle, this throne was lower, wider, with a reclined back, and when he’d entered Kylo Ren had been sprawled there, leaning his helmeted head on one hand.

“When?” Ren asked now, sounding impatient. Enric blinked slowly, tried to raise his head, but he found that he could not move. He was being pressed into the floor by the same energy that had strangled him. He tried to shift and he couldn’t, tried to take a deeper breath and found his lungs couldn’t expand past a certain point. His chest was so tight it hurt; his heart felt heavier than a stone.

“We must make certain he knows _why_ first,” that familiar voice said again, and now that Enric could breathe again he recognized it instantly. General Hux, the disgraced commander of the lost _Finalizer_ and Starkiller Base. That was why it had felt wrong. There was no reason for someone of such low status to be here, in a meeting between the highest-ranking general of the Final Order and the Supreme Leader of the First Order, no matter how meaningless the latter title was.

A distorted chuckle sounded from Ren’s vocoder. “He thinks you low status, even now. And he thinks the title of ‘Supreme Leader’ is meaningless.”

Enric could feel his own heartbeat pounding in his wrists and neck. His breath quickened. He was in danger. He had to survive this, had to see Palpatine take the throne that ruled the galaxy once again. “I mean no disrespect,” he managed to whisper.

Swift footsteps marched close, one, two, three, and then something pointed—the toe of a boot—drove into Enric’s side. The pain was sharp and shocking and Enric let out a gasping whimper. “Of course you mean disrespect,” he heard General Hux say as he came around to stand next to Ren. “You have never respected either of us.”

“And so you’ll kill me?” Enric forced out. “You’ll kill the emperor’s right-hand man, one of your greatest allies, because I hurt your feelings?”

“That _is_ reason enough,” Hux said, ignoring the insult. “However, you might have remained useful for a time. If only you hadn’t decided to kill me.”

At that, Enric’s body was in the air again, and he could finally see the two of them, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren in his mask and what Enric now realized was a new costume of sweeping black robes, and General Hux—except that wasn’t a general’s uniform, that was something else, white and crisp and edged in gold, and there was a circlet resting in Hux’s bright red hair.

“You were the spy,” Enric blurted, confused and outraged. “A traitor.”

“ _You’re_ the traitor,” Ren growled, and the hairs at the back of Enric’s neck stood up.

“He’s right, though, Ren,” Hux said. “I was the spy.”

Ren sighed, which through his mask sounded like electrical failure, and Enric couldn’t hold back a hysterical giggle. Then Ren let go of him again, turning toward Hux, and Enric crumpled painfully to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Ren said, the words piercing the dim veil of pain and shocking Enric’s eyes wide. “How many times do I have to say it?”

“It doesn’t count when you have that bucket on,” Hux said.

Ren sighed again, then removed his helmet, tossing his head so that his hair shook out.

“There,” Hux said, sounding nauseatingly pleased. He stepped close to Ren, far closer than propriety allowed. “Now, what was that?”

A smile—a smile!—pulled at the corner of Ren’s mouth. He tipped his head even closer to Hux, so that their noses practically touched, and gazed into his eyes. “I’m sorry, Armitage,” he said, so soft Enric could barely hear. “I took you for granted. I didn’t listen to you. I hurt you, and I drove you away. I love you. I need you. I’m sorry.”

Hux’s face went red. “Yes. Well. Good,” he stammered, and if Enric weren’t lying broken on the floor at his feet, it might have been gratifying to see him so flustered. When Hux put his arms around Ren’s neck and kissed him solidly on the mouth, though, all Enric could do was fight down bile. “I love you too,” Hux murmured breathlessly. Then he said, “You can kill him now.”

Freezing panic sluiced through Enric’s veins. Ren’s smile broadened. “Any requests?” he asked.

Hux let out a thoughtful _hmm_. “A friend of Brendol’s deserves special consideration. We don’t have any of those beetles, unfortunately, but perhaps something similar. Could you pull him apart? Slowly?”

“I could do that,” Ren said. He kissed Hux again. They kissed for so long Enric considered trying to crawl for the door, but as soon as the thought came to him Ren’s hand shot out and fixed him in place with the Force. “Shall we?” Ren asked, and he put his other hand at the small of Hux’s back and they moved to the throne together, like they were a single unit, like—

Enric had underestimated them. He saw it now, too late. Together, they were too powerful.

He should have killed Hux.

“He still thinks he should have killed you,” Ren crooned, settling back into the throne and pulling Hux into his lap. “Fool.”

Hux draped his arms around Ren’s shoulders and turned at the waist to look at Enric, lying in a pathetic heap below the throne. “He's so eager for his punishment,” Hux said. “Let’s not keep the man waiting.”

Smirking, Ren raised his hand toward Enric once again, and Enric shuddered in horror and then in agony as skin and tendons and bone and cartilage and veins and organs and all the other bits and pieces that made him a whole being began to _separate_ , to break away from each other—as he was slowly, inexorably, torturously disassembled.

Allegiant General Enric Pryde’s last thought as he lay screaming at the feet of the new rulers of the galaxy was that he didn’t understand how any of this had happened.

Then he knew nothing but blinding, infinite pain.

And after that, he knew nothing at all.


End file.
